I didn’t ask or even complain     
about it, because the important thing  
was that so far, no angry mob was gonna
be able to find me and storm the house.
     On the one hand, you could say    
that I’m just being paranoid, but when 
someone’s already tried to kill me with
a fifty-pound rock, I’d say that       
paranoia was justified.                
     While I was mulling that  over, I 
realized that the TV anchors were      
cheerfully using the word “hero” in    
place of my name.                      
     That was different, because every-
one else was calling me some kind of   
psycho, and I began humming that song  
again.                                 
     “You’re not a psycho killer,” Beth
yelled from the kitchen.               
     A minute later, she appeared with 
* two cups of coffee, put them on a small  
table, gave me a hug, and then slapped 
me. I mean, she really hit me hard, and
before I could say ow, she slapped me  
again.                                 
     “What the fuck were you think-    
ing?!” she said, and then gave me an-  
other hug.                             
     “I’m sorry, and I know you can’t  
help it sometimes, but damn it Crim, I 
don’t want you to die either, because  
that would kill me too.”               
     I didn’t know what to say, because
trading my life for an animal’s was the
only justification that I had for still
being alive today.                     
     In the beginning, I didn’t care   
about the impulses, or the crazy shit  
that it made me do, because it was     
either keep the Darkness away, or die  
trying.                                



CHAPTER 2: MONDAY, OCTOBER 20th
<<  60 |  61  | 62  >>
[ TABLE OF CONTENTS ]

                                            *MIDDLE OF THE PAGE